


CAT: the Dog Kind

by Arsenic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LLF Comment Project, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of violence and torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: After leaving the FBI for medical reasons, Stiles starts a second career.  After developing a medical condition, Derek ends up in Stiles' classroom.





	CAT: the Dog Kind

**Author's Note:**

> CAT stands for Canine Assisted Therapy, according to Assistance Dogs International's Glossary. Clearly I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Dijonobrien: Okay, so this isn't EXACTLY a canine rescue, but it involves rescue dogs who rescue humans. It was the story that wanted to be written in response to your super sweet prompt, so I really really hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Beta'ed by Cassandra Potter. Huge thanks to her and the Sterek Glompfest Mod.

It's a five-person class day. In other words: Stiles' absolute least favorite. He's girded his loins with sixteen ounces of cappuccino—fuck you, it's survival, not sacrilege—has three types of painkillers in his bag, and has listened to Queen's Greatest Hits almost the entire way through. He's as prepared as he's ever going to be.

The dogs that have been assigned are great. All the dogs are great. Stiles wouldn't have agreed to work with any organization that was less than top-notch. It's just the people, that's all.

For the first few years after the clusterfuck that landed Stiles with his own therapy and service dog along with a generous severance package from the FBI and a thoroughly unearned commendation from the President, Stiles hadn't really worked with people. At first he'd done some security consulting from the safety of his house, but both his dad and Scott had nixed that after learning he hadn't left its confines in close to two months at one point.

Stiles had agreed to a second career and it was his dad who had thrown out that as much as he'd loved the station dogs growing up, and his service dog, maybe training police dogs was something he could enjoy. Stiles had looked into a number of programs: police dogs, military dogs, even oil pipe-sniffing dogs. 

In the end, though, he'd looked over at Canary, his black lab, and said, "Maybe something a little closer to home, huh, girl?"

Canary had licked his hand, which he took as agreement. And for most of his training and the first few years of his career, he'd been successful at avoiding humans about fifty percent of the time. Then he'd made the mistake of training a little girl who'd literally run into him—fair, she was four, and blind—because she asked. Evidently, to his everlasting disgust, he'd done a little too good of a job.

Stiles peers into the "classroom." It's really just one of the training rooms they use during these sessions. Five students, four of them with family members or friends, and one alone. That's unusual. It's fine, just most people tend to try and involve their support systems in the process.

Loner-dude does give off serious "don't come near me, don't look at me, don't even fucking _think_ about me" vibes, so that probably explains it. Stiles bites back a sigh. He really hopes Loner's dog doesn't have the same reaction any normal human being would have: run, run for your life.

*

Stiles has kind of a reputation in the biz. (That is what Scott says. Stiles does not refer to the assistance-dog training community as a biz. Nor would he talk about his reputation. He's grown a little since college , is all he's trying to say here.) Basically, he can train any dog. Chihuahua who couldn't so much as be house trained previously? Stiles has got it. German shepherd who got thrown out of bomb sniffing school for sheer disinterest? Easy peasy. Mutt who's been hanging out in a no-kill shelter for seven months? Yup.

It's a reputation that gets him head-hunted by a non-profit run by the scariest—and hottest—woman he's ever met, Lydia Martin. After Lydia's wife had returned from combat three years previous deaf in one ear and seriously depressed, Lydia had researched the fuck out of assistant animals. And after that, when she'd realized how expensive it was to breed the types that are currently used, she'd harnessed the power of every shelter within two hours of the Bay Area, gone out and found herself the best of the best of the best trainers, and started her own assistance animal program. Dogs are their main focus, but in certain cases, they work with cats, rabbits, ferrets, chinchillas, and in one particular instance, a horse.

Stiles works with the dogs. And he won't deny that he falls a little bit in love with each and every one he trains. But the pit-mix who's evidently going to Handsome, Silent, and Probably Psychotic—no, Stiles is _not_ supposed to think of the students in those terms, but c'mon—is Stiles's current baby. She's a brindle with probably some beagle or Jack Russell or both in her. She's bossy, but in the way an assistance animal should be, confident in her work. 

It's taken longer than most to train her, because she came to him about a year older than when they generally accept dogs for training, and prior that that, she'd been chained outside for at least a few months. She wasn't aggressive, but certainly cagey and uncertain about people. Stiles named her Oracle, and made her the best. (Well, except Canary, but Canary doesn't count.)

If this dude even looks at her wrong, Stiles is having him thrown out. Lydia can pitch as many fits as she wants. Stiles has final say in releasing the dogs he's trained; he'd made sure to put that in his contract. 

Stiles introduces himself to the class, gives them an outline for how the next couple of days are going to go, and says, "Everything else can wait. The information in this session is going to feel a lot like drinking from a fire hose to start with. For now, I'm going to introduce you to the dogs, and give you some time to just get acquainted."

With that, he brings the dogs in, one-by-one, and matches them to their assisted. He spends a little bit of time introducing them, then allows each dog and human to spend some time meeting each other. 

He brings Oracle out last and she trots at his side to meet her new charge. Stiles looks at the information in his file. "Derek Hale, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Derek's voice is soft and…higher, maybe, than Stiles was expecting. 

"Stiles, please. I'm ex-FBI and the title gets me kind of tense." The first three thousand times Stiles had to say that aloud had involved stuttering and embarrassment, but he's finally getting used to it.

Derek's eyes flicker to where Canary is sitting by the front desk, minding her own business.

"Sorry. Stiles."

"No big," Stiles says. "In any case, this is Oracle, and she's going to take care of you, all you have to do is learn to trust and listen to her."

Derek goes to his knees but doesn't reach out for her. After a second, he tilts his head and asks, "Oracle like mythology, or Oracle like Barbara Gordon?"

_Danger, Will Robinson, so much fucking danger._ It's possible Stiles has misjudged this book by his cover, and that is going to be a problem. Because Derek is hot enough that Stiles _needs_ him to be a hapless dude-bro who happens to have, uh, Stiles looks down at his files, epilepsy.

"Barbara Gordon," he says without even really thinking about it.

 

Derek smiles, or, well, his lips quirk a little bit. "Yeah, she's got some red in her kind of. I see it."

Stiles' breath catches and he does what any professional would do: gets himself the fuck out of there. "I'm gonna let you guys get to know each other. We'll start back up in about ten minutes."

Two days. He'll teach this class like the stone-cold motherfucker he is when it comes to his career, and then he will whine at Kira until she accedes to doing the house visits in this case and force Lydia to pay for drinks. ALL the drinks.

*

Things do not go as planned. (Welcome to Stiles' life.) Oh, he teaches the morning, and all of the trainees listen—to him or the sign language interpreter there for Brandon, the seven year old trainee who is deaf—and everything goes smoothly.

Then they break for lunch. Stiles has brought his, he always does. It allows him to spend the hour in his office listening to funny podcasts with Canary, the two of them recharging. Stiles remembers the days when he didn't need that sort of thing, but the memories are getting fuzzy. 

Before he can make it to the safety of his office, though, Derek is beside him saying, "I—well, I was wondering if you'd have lunch with me?"

Stiles is still running that through his head when Derek starts apologizing. "Sorry, that's probably against the rules or, or something, I didn't mean—"

"There's a Chinese place a block over that's used to Canary."

Derek lights up for a second—and _Jesus_ , how is it even possible to be that fucking attractive—and then frowns. "Isn't it illegal to deny entrance to service animals?"

Stiles runs a hand over his face. "Technically, yes. But with assholes buying service dog vests off the internet and taking animals that are in no way, shape, or form trained to actually _be_ service animals into public places, a lot of shops and restaurants have had trouble. It's a whole…you shouldn’t get me started on the need for service animal regulation. The point is, it's easier when the place just knows they can trust the animal."

Derek nods. "Right. Okay. Good to know. I like Chinese."

They make the walk in companionable silence. When they've sat down and decided what to order, Derek asks, "Batman or Superman?"

Stiles gives him a Look. "Different strengths, different origin stories, different personalities, comparing apples and oranges, man. Up your game."

Derek blinks, and then narrows his eyes. "Very well. Favorite Robin."

Stiles smiles. "See? Now we're getting somewhere."

*

The afternoon goes easily, possibly because Stiles is partly in a Chinese-food coma and Derek keeps flashing his not-at-all-attractive bunny teeth and all is stupidly right with the world. Then class finishes, and it's time to go home and Stiles…doesn't want to. It's an odd feeling, one he hasn't had since before the hospital and the rehab and Canary and the routine that is his life now.

He spends a few minutes trying to remember how he used to just ask fellow agents out for a drink after work, or how he'd chat with a cute person at a bar. Small things, or at least, he'd used to believe that. Nowadays, when the extrovert in him really can't be contained anymore, he throws himself on the mercy of Scott, or his dad, sometimes Lydia, Allison, or Kira. People who know where the sharp parts of him are, and will not get accidentally cut.

After several minutes of nothing congealing into something he could actually say, he ambles over to Derek and says, "Uh, beer?"

Derek nods solemnly. "Beer."

*

What weird is, it's that it’s easy to be quiet with Derek. Stiles has gotten used to the fact that he can now find comfort in his father's silence, or, at moments, Lydia's. But as a rule, silence from people he doesn't know well causes him to case where they are, count the exits, consider likely avenues of attack.

Derek's silence just feels like the ticking of a clock, something in the background, to remind Stiles he's still real. Beer turns into dinner, and Stiles spends a second freaking out that parting is going to be full of unsaid negotiations, but Derek just holds out a hand and says, "See you in the morning, teach."

Stiles goes home, cuddles with Canary, and sleeps without nightmares.

*

Derek shows up the next morning with bagels for the whole class. He tells Stiles quietly, "My friend said it might be inappropriate to just bring one for you."

Stiles spreads roughly half a container of cream cheese on the asiago bagel he picked. "This is nicer, in any case."

"But it wouldn't have been inappropriate?"

Stiles takes a bite and spends some time surreptitiously watching each of the class members with their dogs. The first night can be rough on both dog and human, no matter how good the match, and little interactions will tell Stiles a lot about what needs to be worked on in any given situation. "My boss prefers that if I'm going to go out on a date with one of the students, I keep it on the down low. But we aren't the military or a full-time educational institution, and our rules are more like 'don't do something that's going to get us sued,' you know?"

"So, mildly inappropriate."

Stiles focuses back in on Derek, who's sitting at Oracle's level on the ground, checking that her jacket isn't on too tightly. Derek looks up at him and smirks. It has all the characteristics of a smirk that hasn't been unleashed in a while, but used to be old hat.

Stiles finds himself laughing. "Somewhere less than wildly inappropriate, let's just say."

Derek laughs too, softly, and with his face hidden in Oracle's neck. Stiles shoves the last of the bagel in his mouth, and calls the class to order.

*

Stiles goes over to his dad's that night, like he always does when he's finished teaching a class. His dad likes to check in with him, make sure he's handling the stress. Stiles just likes the relatively quiet interaction of being around one person he trusts absolutely. His dad has turkey burgers on the grill, a compromise, since he started taking Stiles' nagging seriously when Stiles could go into panic attacks if a breeze hit him the wrong way in the early months of recovery.

There are potatoes in the oven. Stiles finds fruit in the refrigerator and makes a fruit salad, allowing the repeated motion of the cutting to help center himself. When he's tossing in the marshmallows, a few, because _something_ is going to kill both of them eventually, his dad says, "You seem less done than you usually are after one of these. Kira or Lydia bail you out?"

Stiles shakes his head. "I think…I think I met someone."

His dad takes a slow sip of beer. "Romantically?"

"It's been a while, so there's room for doubt, but all signs point to yes."

"Huh," his dad says. Then, with a roll of his wrist. "Tell me about them."

Stiles picks up his own beer and heads out to the deck, where the burgers will be ready. His dad follows with the potatoes, doling them onto the plates set on the table. Stiles says, "His name's Derek. He has a good grasp of most of the marquee DC characters, and some of the less-known ones. He has adult-onset epilepsy, but I didn't ask from what, because that's kind of a dick move. He didn't show up with anyone, so if he has family, he's either not close with them, or they're not geographically close."

"And thinking about him makes you smile," his dad finishes.

It takes Stiles a second to realize that's exactly what the way his cheeks ache is telling him. "He's...thoughtful. Both in the he-takes-his-time-to-think-about-things sense and the he-pays-attention- to-others sense."

"Attractive quality," his dad says softly.

More than attractive: it's comforting. Safe feeling. Stiles isn’t exactly proud of how much safety means to him these days, but he's self-aware enough to accept it. "And hey, we both like dogs."

"Yeah, him being a cat person would definitely have been a dealbreaker."

*

Stiles texts Derek when he gets up the next morning. It's been a long, long time since he's pursued someone. His dad had said, "Take a chance, kid," with a sadness in his tone that had made Stiles want to be brave. He knows his dad isn't disappointed in him, he knows that.

Sometimes he's disappointed in himself. His therapist has helped him to let go of a lot of that over the years, but he's almost certain it's never going to be entirely gone. He texts, "Hey, this is Stiles, I was thinking maybe I could show you my favorite Indian place. If you like Indian food."

It's awkward ; he cringes after he sends it. Canary licks him in what he takes as encouragement. He looks down at her. "If your daddy gets a boyfriend, you're gonna have to sleep at the side of the bed, you know?"

She barks, the way she basically always does when he addresses her with that tone. He says, "You're a good dog."

*

Derek does like Indian food, as it so happens. Stiles favorite place has two things going for it: the best Indian food he's had in the States, and a pair of owners who have never acted like Canary is a problem or Stiles' need to sit in the corner is an inconvenience. They're a pair of sisters and Stiles has cultivated their appreciation. It means they always make him special desserts with a cup of chai that Stiles could live on.

Stiles meets Derek outside. He remembers how intimidating every place is when you've just started having a service dog, the fear that people will be rude about it, that somehow something unforeseen will go wrong. Derek greets him with a small smile and a, "Kind of thought you were maybe just humoring me in the class."

Stiles is starting to wonder what the hell Derek's relationship history looks like and if he even wants to know. Probably not. He says, "I'm not really that great at humoring people these days."

Derek shrugs. "So this place is good, huh?"

"Understatement. C'mon, I'm about to chew my own fingers off."

"Sexy," Derek says with a laugh.

The sister who is upfront smiles when she sees him and says, "Stiles! It's been a couple of weeks. We were beginning to think you were cheating on us."

"Never," Stiles says. "Saanvi, meet my friend, Derek."

"Derek," she says, holding a hand out. "Pleasure."

He takes her hand and she covers it with her other. He says, "Stiles tells me the palak chaat here will change my life."

"He does not lie."

"Well, not about that," Stiles says. 

She makes a sound at him and gestures. "Go, your regular table is open."

Stiles leads the two of them to a table in the corner. Canary and Oracle settle at their feet. Stiles asks, "How's the first couple of days been?"

"Not that I want one, but I haven't had a seizure, so I'm still kind of unsure about the practical application element. She's nice to have around, though. I didn't realize how quiet my place was."

"Yeah." Stiles laughs. "I'm pretty sure Canary took up snoring just to add some presence over at mine."

Derek laughs. Saanvi comes over with appetizers they haven't ordered and tuts at Derek when he tries to point this out. Stiles tells her, "You can make the choices for me, but he might want a menu."

"Uh, no, I'm good. I'm allergic to shellfish, but other than that, I eat pretty much anything."

"How spicy do you like things?" Saanvi asks.

"Challenge me," he says. "I can always eat my weight in rice and naan."

She raises an eyebrow. "I like this one," she tells Stiles.

All Stiles can do is nod.

*

After three dates, all of which are easier than they have any right to be, Stiles acknowledges he's not going to be able to say any of the things he needs to say aloud and to Derek's face and instead writes an email.

It starts, "I'm sorry, I know I'm supposed to be able to talk about this stuff, but I can't, not yet. Don't worry, my therapist knows."

He outlines the undercover mission he'd been on, although not in detail, since most of it is still confidential. "I made a mistake," he writes, "and my partner died and I had the shit beat out of me and spent two weeks in a well. Yes, as in, Timmy's fallen down the well, well."

He writes about not being able to sleep if there aren't lights on, about the fact that he sometimes hoards food, and about how he can't handle true silence anymore. He has to have the radio or television on in the background. He writes, "You think I'd prefer being around people, given all that, but a lot of times it's too much, and I can't."

He sends it at three in the morning, when he can't sleep, despite every light in his apartment being on, the radio playing blues softly in the background, and Canary pulling out all the tricks she's ever been taught and few he's not sure where she came up with.

At eight, there's a response. It starts, "I can't sleep past five or six. Ever. I get up and run. I hadn't been able to do that for a while, but now with Oracle, well. It's safe. I'd missed it."

It talks about growing up in a large family, and about being young and stupid and breaking ties with them over a girl who turned out to be—as his parents had predicted—after his family money. It talks about joining the Peace Corps just to get away, and about coming down with bacterial meningitis, which had nothing to do with where he was serving, despite all the ass-backward jokes people made. Just bad timing and bad luck. 

"I think most people know about fevers causing febrile seizures, but it's not really common medical knowledge that bacterial meningitis, if you survive it, can have long-term effects in the form of seizures and other stuff that causes you to be a hot mess. The Peace Corps released me for medical reasons—that's a thing, despite it being non-combatant, it's called medical separation—and I was suddenly stateside again and all I really wanted was my mom."

Derek writes, "I'm working on reconnecting with my family. They didn't even hesitate to pick up the phone, which made it that much worse. I wanted them to be mad at me. Needed that, maybe, even."

Stiles buries his face in Canary's ruff. "I mean, he's not quite the mess I am, but there's promise there, right?"

Canary huffs, which Stiles chooses to take as agreement.

*

They're walking in a park that's in between their places, buffered on either side by Canary and Oracle, a couple of days later when Stiles asks, "So, when you say family money, I mean, how much are we talking? Because I could definitely go for being a kept man."

There's a beat of silence before Derek laughs. "Wow, you just went there."

"Feel free to make fun of all my night lights the first time you come over."

"Oh, I'm invited over, then?" Derek asks, eyebrows waggling.

And Stiles is not at all ready to have sex, he's not even sure he's ready to be making out, but he knows this: "Yeah, yeah you are."

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback (but does NOT believe anyone is required to leave it!!), including:
> 
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> I can be found @arsenicjade on tumblr.


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